


Christmas Gift Shopping

by fireandhoney



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Advent Calendar 2020, Asexual Character, Asexual Sherlock Holmes, Christmas, Christmas Shopping, Exploring the idea of a sexual Sherlock, Greg Lestrade being a good friend, Implied Masturbation, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mention of Mystrade, Mentions of Sex Toys, advent calendar challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandhoney/pseuds/fireandhoney
Summary: "How do you buy a Christmas gift for the world’s greatest detective without him finding out? You get him something that he would never, ever expect to receive."
Relationships: Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Christmas Gift Shopping

How do you buy a Christmas gift for the world’s greatest detective without him finding out? Furthermore, how do you hide a gift from the most observant man when he’s your flatmate? John certainly thought it was an impossible mission, until he had a brilliant breakthrough: well, you get him something that he would never, ever expect to receive. And so, on a Saturday morning in early December, John set out on his quest. He had to search for the right store online and once he made sure they would offer the product he was looking for, he took the tube and headed to his destination. Even though he pretended not to care if anyone saw him, he still looked around, trying to make sure there weren’t journalists or acquaintances around before he stepped into the shop. He walked around for a moment, realizing it was his first time, and looked at a few things he’d never seen before, wondering if, perhaps, they could end up being useful. So many of these looked interesting, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to choose.  
About half an hour later, he exited the boutique furtively, an inconspicuous black shopping bag holding the few items he’d acquired. He hadn’t expected to get more than the gift, but as he was there, and he’d been tempted…

He made his way back to Baker Street, keeping his head straight and high, trying to hide how self-conscious he felt, as if everyone could see through the plastic what he’d bought. Not that it would be such a big deal, in 2020, no one cared about these things anymore, but still, he wasn’t particularly a big fan of exposing his entire life in the tabloids for everyone to see. 

He knew there was no way for him to hide the gift in the flat without Sherlock finding it within a day. Therefore, he started making his way to Lestrade’s, whom he’d called earlier that week and who had agreed to keep the gift at his place until Christmas Eve. Well, this was going to be embarrassing, but it was necessary. His other options were Mrs Hudson (Absolutely not, she would never let it go, and also, Sherlock would be able to read it on her face or deduce it somehow) and Molly (John wasn’t cruel enough to ask Molly to keep his gift to Sherlock, even though she didn’t really care about him anymore as it’d been years, but he didn’t have the kind of friendship with her that would allow him to ask her to keep such items in her possession without it affecting their work relationship). And so, it had to be Greg. 

He arrived at the DI’s house in the suburbs in early afternoon, keeping the bag carefully closed in his hands.  
“Hey Greg!”  
“Hey mate! Come in, come in!”

Greg moved out of the way to let John in. The doctor had never been here before and he looked around, quite impressed by the fancy, yet comfortable looking interior.  
  
“Nice place you’ve got!”  
“Yeah, well, you know how he is, wouldn’t accept to come over if it wasn’t ‘up to his standards’.” Greg laughed, and John joined in.   
“Expensive bastards, they are!”

The DI agreed, leading him into the kitchen. “Beer?”  
John hesitated, tightening his grip on the plastic handles.  
“Actually, I was thinkin-”  
“Oh come on, John. You can stay for one beer, he’ll survive on his own! Plus, we haven’t gone out for a pint in so long, what with the last three cases burning me up!”  
  
John had to admit he was right, and he deposited the bag on the ground as he sat at one of the kitchen isle stools, reaching for the beer Greg was handing him. He took a sip and his friend leaned against the counter, facing him. 

“So, what d’you get him?”

John choked on his beer, coughing up into his fist.  
“Uh, _things.”_

Greg raised an eyebrow, observing him, then burst into laughter.  
“Oh, alright, I see. _Fun_ things, I’m guessing.”  
  
John’s cheeks were warm, and he couldn’t blame the alcohol. 

“Well, I uh… Hopefully.”  
  
Greg laughed even more, putting his beer down to not knock it over.  
“John, I’m not judging you. Hell, I’ve got some of those myself.”  
  
John waved his hand and shook his head.  
“That is just TMI, Greg. I do _not_ need those… images.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t. So, you and him…?”

John rolled his eyes. “As if you didn’t know.”  
  
“Of course I know _that_! I meant, are you two… doing things?”

“Mate, that’s just…” John ran a hand over his face, sighing, giving up the pretense and the shame that’d been forcing him to keep everything in. “I don’t know.”

“Well, with any hope, this,” Greg pointed towards the bag on the ground, “will prompt up a discussion.”  
  
John nodded, huffing in amusement. “If it doesn’t, then I’ll know he’s really not human.”

Greg laughed, and John smiled, and the conversation flowed back to their cases and the upcoming New Scotland Yard Christmas event. Eventually, the sunlight started to dip through the windows.  
  
“Alright, I better start getting back. I promised I would take care of dinner and I gotta pick up takeaway on the way.”  
They exchanged goodbyes and a promise to go out to a pub soon. 

Time passed and weeks went by and suddenly, it was Christmas Eve. Claiming he had to go run some errands, John passed by Lestrade’s place, collecting his possessions - and a very cheerful “ _Have fun_ !” accompanied by a wink - then got some fruit and veg and went back home. Sherlock was busy observing something in his microscope so he managed to sneak by and make his way up to his room, pushing the bag under his bed, and then back down to put away the food. Sherlock didn’t look up from his microscope, but John knew he was listening to what he was doing, following John’s movements with his hearing rather than his eyes. When everything was sorted, John went to leave the room, stopping in the door frame.  
  
“Sherlock, I’m asking you to not come upstairs tonight. Do not, under any circumstance, enter my room.” Sherlock continued to pretend he was ignoring him, so John continued.  
  
“I know you are listening to me, so do not, do not, enter my room.”  
  
Sherlock didn’t move, but he did ask “Why?”  
  
“Because I know you and I know you’ll figure out what I got you and you cannot have your gift until tomorrow.”  
  
That did cause him to react, and he raised his eyes, brows furrowed, looking at John.  
“John, there are three facts I must point out to you. First, time is arbitrary and waiting on a specific position of the astral objects to determine an event is ridiculous. Second, I do not require a Christmas gift as I do not partake into the commercially overtaken Christian tradition of opening presents on Christmas morning. Finally, I-”  
  
John interrupted him. “Good, then you won’t be tempted. Do not come into my room.”

On this note, John left, going upstairs to wrap the present he’d bought Sherlock, and hide the extra things he’d gotten. When he was done, he was back to the kitchen to make some tea and sat in the living room, lighting the fire and enjoying the peaceful warmth of the flat. 

Sherlock finished his experiment and joined him and they spent the evening in comfortable calm, John reading a book and Sherlock lost in his mind palace. Eventually, John started yawning.  
“I’m going to sleep, is tonight..?”

Sherlock nodded, and John smiled, walking by his chair to press a kiss on top of his curls.  
“Then I’ll see you later. Goodnight, Sherlock.”

He didn’t answer, but that was okay, John was used to Sherlock’s lack of spoken words when he was deep in his brain. He went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, then stepped into the room that was still and probably would always be Sherlock’s room in his mind even though they shared it most nights. 

He laid down and pondered for a moment whether he could trust Sherlock to not go to his room, but decided that he would be getting it tomorrow anyways, so even if he couldn’t resist it wouldn’t make that much of a difference. Well, he wouldn’t be there to witness his reaction, but in a way, that was going to be a nerve-wracking event anyways, so maybe it would make it easier if Sherlock found it on his own. No, that would be a cowardly move, and John was done being too scared of his emotions to talk about things, especially with Sherlock. They’d wasted almost ten years turning in circles, avoiding words and “sentiment”, and he wasn’t going to revert back to that.

He turned and turned, tired but unable to find sleep, until Sherlock joined him, silently leaning down on his side of the bed.  
John raised an eyebrow, surprised, and whispered.  
“You’re early.”  
“You couldn’t sleep.” Sherlock’s answer was soft, as if he had been stating an obvious fact. John reached his hand out to him, and Sherlock moved closer, gently making his way to resting his head on John’s chest. John kissed his forehead, placing a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, and they shared the comfort of their warmth. 

John woke up not long after the sun. He stirred quietly, trying to avoid waking up the sleepy man next to him. He pecked a kiss to his long, pointy nose, and slipped out of the bed. He borrowed one of Sherlock’s robes, which looked ridiculously long on him, and went to the bathroom. Once done, he started making some tea and toasts. As he waited for them to heat up, he went upstairs to grab the wrapped box. Back by the kettle, he grabbed his cup and his toasts that he covered with honey. He tried to figure out a plan as he ate. He wanted to be there, to be able to explain why he picked such a… particular gift. Should he put it on Sherlock’s bedside table so he can open it when he wakes and deal with the shock alone, and then John would come in? Should he give it to him directly, as they sat at the table? Would it make more sense to wait later? He didn’t get to decide, because his flatmate walked in.  
“Good morning, Sherlock. Merry Christmas!”

Sherlock returned a nod and a small tired smile, walking around the table to get himself a cup as well. He sat in front of John and eyed the package, curiosity openly written on his face. John took a deep breath. Apparently, there would be no plan: it would just be now. 

“There’s your gift.”  
“Yes, I can see that, John.” Sherlock now had raised an eyebrow, and John could tell he was examining him, attempting to read in his face what the gift could be.  
“Well, actually, it is two gifts, because I didn’t know… uh… I didn’t know which one you would prefer. And I thought multiple… options, might be a good idea.”

“Does giving me a gift make you uncomfortable?”

“No. I mean, maybe, a bit. It’s mostly this face,” John drew a circle in the air in front of Sherlock, “though.”

Sherlock leaned back, visibly confused and offended.  
“What face? My face?”  
“No, not your face. Just, that expression you have when I’m under scrutiny and you’re hyper-focused on reading something. Makes me nervous.”

Sherlock nodded, frowning, his eyes trailing on the wooden table.  
“I see. I… apologize.”  
“It’s fine.” John reached across the table to take Sherlock’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “So, before I give you your gift, I have to say something.”  
That piqued Sherlock’s interest again and he looked back up at John. Come on, John, you fucking invaded Afghanistan, you can do this.

“I know there are some things that are a no for you, and that’s completely fine, you don’t… have to do anything if you don’t want to.”  
Sherlock stayed silent a moment, confused.  
“I know.”  
“Okay, good, that’s good, then.” John nodded and grabbed the box, which he placed right in front of Sherlock. “You can open it now.”

Sherlock’s long fingers moved around the box, silently removing the wrapping paper. When it was all neatly moved to the side, he opened the box. His fingers stilled and he appeared to be frozen, looking down at the two items. John swallowed with difficulty, and coughed a little.  
“So, you told me you haven’t… and, uhm, I know you don’t want to… well, do things. But that doesn’t mean you can’t… try some things on your own.”

Sherlock closed the box halfway to look at John.  
“This is very-”  
“If you don’t want them, it’s fine, you don’t have to-”  
“John.”

He stopped talking and they looked at each other. John noticed Sherlock looked serious, but not embarrassed. That was a good sign...right? Probably.

“This is very thoughtful of you, John.”

John didn’t know what to say, out of all the responses Sherlock could have had, he wasn’t expecting this one. 

“It’s… You’re welcome. You deserve to find what works for you, and if maybe these can help… I thought it was worth a try.”

“Sound logic, Doctor,” Sherlock answered seriously, a small smirk curling his lips. John smiled: if Sherlock was teasing, then it definitely was a good sign.

Sherlock reopened the box and picked up the first object. 

“Purple, uh?”

John looked at the dildo and felt warmth colour his cheeks, but he didn’t lose his smile.  
“Thought it suited you. Reminded me of _that_ shirt _._ ”

Sherlock chuckled, and John joined in. He didn’t need to explain, they both knew which shirt he was referring to. 

“It is a very good-looking colour.”

John nodded, and confirmed: “Especially on you.”  
Sherlock’s eyes averted John’s and he focused on putting the sex toy back in the box, a light pink colouring his cheeks. He picked up the second part of the gift and placed it on top of the box. 

“I don’t know if you know, but that’s-”  
“A fleshjack, yes. I know, John.”  
“Okay, good.”  
The silence stretched between them.  
“Have you ever-”  
“No.”  
“Okay.”

“You?”  
“No.”  
“Alright.”

Silence. Then, their eyes met, and they dissolved into laughter again. 

“So, this is new, then.” John repeated.  
“Yes.”  
“This is ridiculous. Why are we so bad at talking about things.”  
“Well, we _are_ British men.”

John laughed, and Sherlock smiled proudly.  
“But we’ve been living together for 10 years, and we’ve been dating…”

As John was trying to count how long they’d been “officially” together, Sherlock looked up, eyes wide. John was lost in his head for a moment before he realized, and he immediately lost his train of thought.

“Sherlock, are you okay?”

Sherlock blinked and recomposed his expression.  
“Yes.”  
“What’s wrong? What happened?” John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and softly squeezed, a gesture that usually prompted Sherlock to express himself. 

“You… We’re dating.”

“Yes, of cour- _oh._ ” As he thought about it, John realized they had never explicitly said it outloud. He stroked Sherlock’s hand with his thumb.  
“We are dating. Unless you don’t want to use that term, or would prefer another..?”  
“No, it’s fine, it’s… fine.” Sherlock tightened his grip on John’s hand and smiled, looking up at him, but a sudden thought passed through his mind and he let go of his hand, standing up.  
“Wait here!”  
John watched Sherlock run off into his bedroom, brows furrowed in confusion.  
“Yes, okay..?”

Within a minute, Sherlock returned with a half burned, non-scented candle that must have been used for some experiment or another. He reached into the tallest cupboard where John knew he kept his secret stash of cigarettes and picked up the matchbox. He lit the candle, then sat down, grabbing both of John’s hands.  
“I’ve been told that all good tables needed a candle when one is with their date.”  
John smiled brightly, and Sherlock returned the smile. They stared at one another fondly, in a moment that would have been impossible only a few months ago - but could have been possible years ago if either men had had the courage to speak up - until John looked down accidentally and amusedly said: “This would be a lot more romantic if there wasn’t a beige fleshjack in the middle of the table.”

A laugh escaped Sherlock’s lips and he moved to replace the gift in its box. He set the items aside on an empty chair and came back to John. Overwhelmed by the love and affection of the still early morning, Sherlock leaned across the table and grabbed John’s head in his hands, brushing his lips against John’s. John reciprocated, adding some pressure, and they kissed softly, sharing the smile that was stamped on both of their faces. As Sherlock pulled back, gently pressing his forehead against John’s, he opened his eyes, and John did too. 

“Happy Christmas, Sherlock.”  
“Happy Christmas, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> I am personally asexual and I love the idea of Sherlock being on the asexuality spectrum. I'm not sure if I read him as being asexual, or demi, or grey, but I like playing with his character as he goes through and explores and tries different things, and I think Dr Watson would be very compassionate and open and patient with him. Many asexuals enjoy masturbating, and some asexuals are open to sexual relationship even if they personally don't see the appeal, not all asexuals are sex-repulsed, and I like to give more accurate representation, else than just the sex-hating asexuals (which is absolutely valid as well, by the way). 
> 
> Also, the title may change. I couldn't think of anything, so I just wrote the prompt this was based on, but if inspiration strikes, I'll act accordingly, haha.


End file.
